


it wasn't love (but this might be)

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Pining, Romance, love in the time of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: How Angelina and George reconnected after the war.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley
Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263350
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	it wasn't love (but this might be)

If it were just for flying Angelina would like her job a whole hell of a lot more. But the start of a new season promised very little time on her broom in favor of clothing too tight to throw a quaffle in while talking to reporters about everything other than the sport she professionally played.

She grinned and beard the spectacle of it all, knowing it was her team's best chance at landing ad revenue and a favorable schedule, enjoying the few moments she could catch up with other players she knew from Hogwarts or had met on the road.

“I’m going to quit,” she said through a false smile as she at last escaped the company of the young new executive for Quality Quidditch Supplies

“Take me with you,” replied a voice that clearly understood her exhaustion.

Angelina turned, ready to apologize for her lack of enthusiasm and found Ginny Weasley, lurking behind a chair with a comically high back, looking equally worn out.

“Ginny!” she said happily, “I’m so pleased to see you.”

“You’ve no idea,” Ginny sighed, “Is it always like this? I feel like I can’t breathe without someone asking me a stupid question.”

Angelina laughed, “Would you like a lie?”

A grin split Ginny’s face and she shook her head.

“I’d heard you’ve been offered a spot with the Harpies,” Angelina went on, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” said Ginny, rightfully looking proud. “How are you? Sticking with the Tornados?”

Angelina nodded. “Yes, yes. Extended my contract another two years. I’ve been good, my brother just got married so it’s been quite a year but I’m more than ready to get back to flying and not all this political nonsense.”

“You’re telling me,” Ginny agreed with a sigh. “Since tryouts, it feels like I haven’t been on my broom at all.”

“It’ll get better,” Angelina promised her. “How is everyone? How’s George?”

The question had been burning at her ever since she had spotted Ginny, though she hadn’t meant it so come so quickly.

Ginny’s smile dipped and her voice lowered. “He’s, er, he’s doing the best he can.”

“Right,” Angelina nodded, wanting to spare the girl from having to answer such an intrusive question. “I’ve been meaning to reach our, I just didn’t know…”

Ginny gave a practiced nod and Angelina felt like kicking herself for doing what she could only suspect so many others had done.

“Right,” Angelina said again, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Well, tell him I said hey, would you?”

“Course,” Ginny nodded, looking a little upset.

There was an uncomfortable pause and Angelina wished to fade back into the crowd she was so embarrassed.

“Come round for dinner,” Ginny said suddenly.

“What?”

“At my parents,” Ginny clarified. And to the horrified look on her face, “It’s not like that, George is still living at home and everyone comes round on Sundays, Harry, Ron, Hermione. He’s not been up to leaving the house, but I’m sure he’d like to see you. And at the least, you could catch up with the rest of us.”

“Alright,” Angelina answered, surprising herself. “Should I bring anything?”

Angelina had only ever seen Mr. And Mrs. Weasley on the platform along with a vague memory of them being at her Uncle Micheal’s funeral, but when she walked through the door they greeted her as if she’d been coming round for years.

“And how’s your father?” Mr. Weasley asked after they’d greeted one another. “I haven’t seen him since Perkin’s retirement party.”

“Good, good, my older brother got married this summer, been busy with the wedding.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Mrs. Weasley beamed. “You give them our best.”

“Of course,” Angelina said just as the door to the other room opened and in filed Ginny, Harry right on her heels followed shortly by Hermione, Ron, and bringing up the rear, George.

Angelina hadn’t seen him since the funeral and at that moment she felt like she was looking at a ghost. His hair was long and hung limp on his face, the color absent from his cheeks. His clothes seemed to hang off of him and it was hard not to stare at him in pity.

“Oh, good, you made it,” Ginny interrupted her staring and she turned to greet them all.

It was hard to open a paper these days without one of them making the front page, but seeing them in person was so different. Gone was the haunted look from Harry’s eye that she’d seen at the Battle of Hogwarts and instead filled with joy at the sight of her. And how they’d all grown. Ron had already been a head over her when they’d played together at Hogwarts but now he positively towered over them all, even George though perhaps it was because he hung back, trying not to draw any attention to himself.

But there wasn’t time to be awkward with one another. Already everyone was sitting down after hugging her and whether it was by design or accident, Angelina found herself and George sitting beside one another at the middle of the large dining table.

Dinner was pleasant, Mrs. Weasley a wonderful cook and so long as she didn’t stare at George too long there was nothing uncomfortable about being there. It rather reminded her of school on the days the team would all eat together, before a match or when practice ran late.

Everyone else had migrated to the other room by the time she came back from the wash and she found George sitting alone in the darkened kitchen. He offered her a weak smile and she sat down in the chair next to his.

“Hey,” she said to him, smiling.

“Hey,” he echoed, giving her a smile as well.

The question of how he’d been died on her lips and they stared at one another in the relative darkness.

“Listen,” she said, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry I didn’t write.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t write either.”

“Yes, but-“ she broke off, knowing that the rest of her sentence didn’t need to be said. In the other room, there was a burst of laughter and George tensed at the sound. “I should have written.”

“You’ve been busy. Big quidditch star and-“

George broke off mid-sentence and she waited for him to finish, but his face merely turned to stone.

“That happens a lot,” he admitted, staring at the empty chair beside him.

She waited, patiently for him to go on, ignoring the itch to brush the moment away.

“It’s like someone took away half my brain,” George said finally. Another long pause and her desire to make the moment lighter. “The stupider half, mind.”

And so ridiculous, so painful, she couldn’t help but laugh. The kind of delirious caught she’d heard her mother emit the day her Aunt had died.

“It wasn’t that funny,” George said weakly, finally averting his eyes. His voice trembled with the effort of holding back his own tears.

“No,” she agreed, trying and failing to compose her face. “I know you can do better than that.”

To her utter surprise, he snorted and grinned at her. “Ah, fair enough.”

She continued to laugh with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“I know,” he said kindly. “I know.”

They put on pained smiles and Angelina dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her jumper.

“You should come out,” she said impulsively,“for drinks.”

“Angie-“ he protested, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s just Katie and Wood and Alicia on the days she thinks she can survive five minutes without her boyfriend.” She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “We miss you,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “ _I miss you_. And it’s just drinks and Quidditch. So, you should come.”

He declined her first owl. And her second. But on her fourth, she got the bright idea to send the message via Ginny and finally received a short reply.

_Don't give up easy do you? See you tonight. -George_

A quarter of an hour passed and then another and still, Angelina found herself staring at the door every time it opened, barely listening to the rambling story that Oliver was telling. But then, just when she’d given up hope, another cool bit of air hit her face and she looked up to find George standing just over the threshold, looking deeply uncomfortable.

The whole table turned and stared as he approached and Angelina, unable to sit still, jumped up to greet him.

“You came,” she said in surprise, meeting him halfway across the room.

“Since you’ve put in so much effort to get me here, I can presume you’re buying?” he said in a quiet voice and she grinned at him.

“What are you doing this Saturday?” she asked one Thursday evening as they waited together at the bar for their drinks.

He’d become a regular at their little club. Cut his hair though it was still long enough to hide where his ear was missing. Looked more like himself even though he spoke slower and didn’t laugh as loud.

“Nothing,” he answered, looking down at her in surprise. “But don’t you have a match?”

“Yes, well, I was wondering if you’d like to come?” she asked. “I could get you a couple of tickets.”

“That’d be brilliant,” he answered with a smile. “But I’d only need the one. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Well, that’s good because I’m not seeing anyone either,” she said boldly and he looked impressed by her courage. “But seriously, you should bring someone. It’s bound to get boring.”

“I won’t be bored,” George replied, looking stunned at the idea. “I’ll be watching you.”

He began putting his arm around her chair as they listened to their friends talk, so casually she wasn’t even really sure he was aware he was doing it. But every time she would smile to herself, and when they stood talking to others she lean a little closer, brush her hand against his.

She’d dated since school, and her career certainly provided a plethora of opportunities to meet interesting people, but she couldn’t remember ever having so much fun with someone, even if they weren’t technically dating. They were friends, she kept telling herself. Friends who hung out with others at pubs and stayed up late talking to one another, sitting side by side on the floor of her bedroom.

The fact that he’d started coming to all of her matches, didn’t really mean anything. Nor did it mean anything that she now attended dinner at the Weasley’s each week so long as she didn’t have to work. Weeks passed with them slowly relaxing around one another, spending so much time with one another that she actually missed him on the odd nights he wasn’t free.

_We’re just friends._ She told herself. _He’s still grieving and doesn’t need any pressure._

But then one November evening, came the night with the tea. They’d been bullied out of her room by her flatmates and (after a rather copious pre-party) had been drug out to a club her teammates like to frequent. She could tell that George hadn’t wanted to come, but had been a good sport about it. Angelina had never been too fond of the place either and had been coming less and less in the months since they’d started seeing one another.

“It’s rather loud in here,” she said, leaning up to shout in his ear.

He nodded, though she wasn’t positive he’d heard her.

“Would you mind taking me home?”

George nodded gratefully, guiding her through the crowd and summoning their jackets from the table. His hand stayed on her shoulders till they were at the door and helped her into her coat as the bitter chill hit them.

“Thanks,” he muttered to her as they stepped away from the entrance and towards the alleyway they could leave from.

“No, thank you,” she said, putting her arm through his. “I’m all for going out, but what’s the point if you’re just screaming at one another?”

“What was that?” he asked mockingly, miming clearing out his ear. She laughed, stumbling around the side of the building still arm in arm.

Seconds later the bitter chill had left them and was replaced with the stale smell of the hallway just outside her door. George held her gloves as she fumbled for her keys and she unlocked the door, thankful to be home. She looked back to find him hesitating at the threshold, looking torn on whether to follow.

“Care for a drink?” she asked, hoping to draw him in. “If there’s anything left that is.”

George stepped through the door as she passed through to the kitchen, littered with half-empty bottles from the pre-party, and not smelling much better than the club they’d left.

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” he called.

“Excellent,” she said gratefully.

He’d removed his coat and stood in the archway between the rooms, looking out of place.

To say she didn’t know what her plan was would be to admit that she wanted to have a plan. She had just wanted to get out of the bar, to get him out of it, but now that they were alone it was hard not to want to be closer to him.

“Mind handing me the mugs?” she asked, pointing at the drainboard, perfectly within her reach.

But of course, George obliged at once, stepping into the small space and passing them to her. Their hands met on the handles and lingered for a moment before she gave thanks and set them on the counter. George didn’t step away and she could feel him behind her as she put the tea bags in slowly before turning to face him. She had to tilt her head back to stare at him for how close he was standing and she leaned against the counter to stare up at him.

He was looking at her in a way that she’d only ever witnessed from the corner of her eye, but now he was unbashful in his looking at her.

“What?” she asked breathlessly just as he swooped down, hands on either side of her face and their lips crashed together.

Instantly she reached for him, and just as it was getting good, her lips beginning to tingle and racing brain surrendering to her heart he pulled away rather unexpectedly.

Angelina’s eyes flew open in surprise and found that he’d taken a step away and was looking at her, horrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she assured him, trying to close the space between them again but respecting him when he flinched away from her. “George that was-“

But she didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. George gave one last terrified look and disappeared with a loud crack just as the kettle began to whistle.

“Er, is George home?” she asked, feeling like she was in primary school and asking her friend's parents permission to play.

“Oh, yes, come in, please.” Mrs. Weasley said, ushering her into the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, er, he just left his coat,” Angelina explained, holding up the garment that had laid, untouched in her room for several days. “I thought I’d bring it over and make sure that everything was alright.”

“Oh,” she said, “Well, thank you, I’ll go see if he’s up. Would you care for something to drink? Tea?”

“No, really, that’s alright,” Angelina said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

But Mrs. Weasley merely smiled and headed off towards the stairs. She peered around the room as she waited, trying to distract her anxious mind. Across the room, she spotted a clock hanging on the wall, hands pointing in all different directions. Curious she took a step towards the clock on the wall and found it to contain nine hands, most of which pointed not at numbers but at work or home. The hands bore inscriptions and when she leaned in she noticed the names of the Weasleys and automatically she sought Fred and George’s names-

“Hey.”

George looked worse for the wear, his hair flattened on the side of his head as if he’d just been woken up.

“Hey,” she said back a little too brightly.

He stared at her expectantly and she held up the jacket in her hands. “You left this.”

“Oh,” he replied, blinking at it in surprise. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she answered. “I would have stopped by earlier, but we’ve had training the last two days and-“

“You could have sent it by owl,” he interrupted.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She replied, feeling a little hurt.

“I’m fine,” he said in a practiced but unconvinced way. They stared at one another. “Listen, I should apologize.”

“For what?” she asked, surprised.

“For kissing you,” he said in an ashamed voice. “I wasn’t thinking and-“

“I wanted you to.”

“You don’t have to say that to make you feel better.”

“And I wouldn’t say it just to make you feel better,” she said, a little snappier than she’d intended. “You’ve been putting your arm around my chair for weeks, we’ve spent almost every night this past month sitting side by side on my bed. If anything you did made me uncomfortable, don’t you think that I would have said something?”

He looked at her like he’d never considered it and she braved stepping closer to him.

“I fancy you, George,” she admitted boldly. “I have for some time, but I wanted to give you space and respect that you might not be in the same place that I am. I will be there for you, even if it is just as friends, but please don’t apologize for kissing me because I’ve been thinking about it for ages and my feelings really would be hurt if you tell me now that you didn’t mean it.”

His face suddenly looked like his own and he grinned at her. “For ages?”

“Shut up,” she replied, blushing. “You think that it’s some accident that I always sit next to you whenever we go out? It’s not just because most men over-do their aftershave.”

He reached up to feel his own unshaven face. “Most men?” he asked self consciously.

“I rather think yours smells nice.”

George straightened, dropping his face from his hand and looked pleased with himself. They grinned, somewhat shyly at one another.

“I’m not asking you for a relationship or anything,” she told him. “I do want to be your friend, but I’d also like to think that perhaps one day we could be something more. But only if you feel the same way.”

“I do,” he said quietly.

Angelina felt her heart flutter in her chest and was unable to stop the open mouth smile from splitting her face. George was smiling back almost as widely. The stood smiling at one another for what felt like several blissful minutes.

“Er-are you doing anything tonight?” George asked.

Angelina shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I should probably shower, but, er, could I take you to dinner?” he asked. “So long as I don’t overdo the aftershave?”

She giggled and nodded. “It’s a date.”

“Did you love him?” George asked.

Angelina was grateful that she had her head against his chest to avoid having to meet his eyes. She thought about ignoring the question, faking sleep in hopes that he’d lack the confidence to ask it again. But it didn’t feel fair to leave the question unanswered.

“It wasn’t love.” She braved finally, her own heart pounding in her chest. “Truth be told I had a crush on the both of you which was ruddy confusing and felt a bit dehumanizing.”

“How so?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“You were both your own person, I didn’t think you were just one, but a lot of the traits I was attracted to I found in the both of you.”

“Like what?” he pressed.

Forcing herself to raise her head she placed a hand on his chest to rest her chin on and stared into his eyes.

“Like how funny you were,” she said, beginning with the obvious trait. “You always knew how to make me laugh even when I was in the worst mood.”

“Yeah, you did have a bit of a grumpy streak,” he teased and she grinned at him.

“I was a teenager, I was allowed to be moody,” she answered. He shook his head, brushing the hair from her face.

“What else?”

She pretended to think on it. “How protective you were. I’d always pretend to be cross when you wouldn’t let me go off on my own before matches against the Slytherins, but I was grateful that you never let Flint or any of his friends bother me.”

“Had to protect our star player,” he said in a low voice, looking pleased with himself.

“And when I was made captain, you never let anyone talk shit about me, even when I was a bit overbearing.”

“A bit?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Shut up,” she said playfully, swatting at him. “And then, even after that bitch kicked you from the team, you’d still sneak onto the pitch to watch our practices.”

George smiled fondly at the memory.

“I knew you were just there because you were bored, or perhaps to watch Ginny or Ron, but sometimes…” her breath caught as she was on the verge of spilling a secret she’d never said aloud. “Sometimes, I’d pretend you were there just to watch me.”

And seemingly without thinking, George replied. “Sometimes we were.”

And Angelina watched, delighted, as the tips of his ears turned red. There was a tension between them that had never been there before despite the experimental kissing that they’d participated in. His breathing was the loudest thing in the room aside from her thumping heart.

“I loved him,” she stammered, unable to keep quiet. “Loved F-Fred, like I loved you.” It was her first time saying his name since, and she hated that it caused George to take a sharp intake of air, his whole chest spamming beneath her hands. She forced herself to go on. “You two were among my best friends while we were in school. I hated when you left school and every time you wrote me I’d read the letters over and over, searching for a deeper meaning.”

George chuckled, “We weren’t that suave.”

“A girl can dream,” she whispered.

There was nothing forced about his smile and she was positive he could hear her heart for how loud it was thumping. “I really like you, George. Being with you, it’s like—“ but words failed her. “Magic. I just like you.”

“Thought you loved me,” he teased and she found herself hiding her face. When she looked back up he bent his head to kiss her. “I’m really glad you came over that first day,” he told her once she was breathless. “I missed you.”


End file.
